Linguistically Inclined
by bowlfullofcherries
Summary: Discont'd. A series of drabblish... things. Fluff-fest and angst. U/K, U/K friendship, U, K
1. Linguistically Inclined

Disclaimer:/ I do not own Star Trek, though this story is my own.

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><p>Linguistically Inclined<p>

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><p>When she makes love to him the languages she knows flow together seamlessly.<p>

He has been adored in Risian, Spanish and Deltan, his body praised in Bajoran and Greek. He's been fucked in Klingon sucked in Cardassian. He's been made to beg for her sex as she whispers deliciously moist Orion hotness in his ears.

He can't decide if that's his favorite part. Or is it like now, with her under him all breathless moans and straining against him. Sweet mouth quivering, lush hips shaking, the delicate full swell of sweat slicked breasts, pretty brown nipples trembling. No words pass her lips though her glazed obsidian eyes speak volumes. Then a low keening that slowly rises in pitch.

And together they shatter. They break apart into a billion stars though the name of only one is on his lips.

He treasures these moments. This trust. He kisses her sweaty brow and stops thinking. He drifts off on a sigh in the peaceful serenity of their shared afterglow.

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><p>AN :/ Nyota is Kiswahili for 'Star'.


	2. Admit Impediments

Admit Impediments

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><p>Nyota was sitting on a couch in his quarters, reading one of the paperback books he'd leant her. She checked her watch. Jim wouldn't be off shift for another fifteen minutes. She let herself drift back into the world of Miss Bennet and Mr Darcy.<p>

She was just becoming annoyed with the handsome Mr. Darcy for his stiff tongue when the man she'd been waiting for was suddenly before her. He stood to the side of the couch she perched upon and looked down at her grumpily. The expression on his face was hardly that of a superior speaking to an underling. He looked more like a child upset at having his sister steal a favored toy.

She waited for him to speak, something warm hovering in her eyes at the sight of him.

"You still touch him."

She immediately schooled her features into something more cool.

"Spock is one of the people closest to me. That certainly has not changed." His expression didn't change. She decided to try a different tack.

"_You_ touch him."

He shifted slightly in a half shrug. "I've always touched Spock. Even when he didn't want me to."

"Well I never touched him when he _didn't_ want me to."

He stared at her, expression maybe a little less disgruntled.

"There are few who would touch a Vulcan when he did not wish them to. The results are not pleasant."

His brow crinkled and she suppressed a laugh.

"Spock doesn't react badly when I-"

"Well, no. But he did complain to me once. But seeing as that was all he did, I think we can take that as an indicator that his annoyance was only so deep. I think he liked you from the get go, Jim."

He just watched her, uncertain and more than a little skeptical.

She continued firmly, "I did not touch Spock until eight months into our official relationship. I won't give up something so precious. Not when you do the same. Not when my touch is one of the few he will accept."

She put her book down, turning slightly to fully face him. "Tell me now; are you really jealous?"

"Hmph," he grunted.

She laughed at him openly. "I touch Len, too." Still laughing, she ignored his frustrated growl, leaned in to kiss his cheek goodnight and left him there in his quarters to sulk alone.


	3. Good Morning, Love

Good Morning, Love

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><p>She was in the middle of the bed, propped up on one elbow, the hand of her other arm shuffling through sleep-mussed hair, black thick strands loose and falling over bare shoulders. He stood apart, taking in the view. Graceful collarbones, luscious lips slightly parted, eyes heavy-lidded and drowsy, chocolate legs tangled in white sheets. She sighed as she gazed at nothing and he sighed as he gazed at her. Had he ever been this happy?<p>

God, the woman had legs for days. Jim approached her silently, one knee making an indent on the bed as he moved to lie alongside her. He took hold of the wrist that was still brushing at her hair and held her arm in both his own across his body. She watched him speculatively, quietly questioning. Gently, he trailed a hand down its length.

"Every part of you is so lovely. This arm- it's so pretty."

"My arm, Jim?"

"Sh. I'm saying something very sweet. Just listen." She rolled her eyes but held her silence. "And your waist, Nyota, your waist is seriously sexy."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Seriously?"

He nodded firmly. "Seriously. Because, I can do this…" He placed each of his palms flat, fingers spread against brown hips and slid them… slowly… _up_.

Her back reflexively arched off the bed and he groaned. "See? Sexy. Gods, Ny. And your legs." He hummed low in his throat, sliding his calloused palms swiftly past smooth hips, skimming down willowy legs, caressing contours and hollows, to rest each on an elegantly arched foot.

"Then there're these babies. They're so..." His voice trailed off as he carefully rubbed deep circles in the soles, eliciting sweet moans from his lover's lips. Nyota's eyes closed at the blissful pressure. "You have beautiful feet." He was whispering, worshipping, wonder-full.

She hummed at him, smiling a little. "And my breasts?" His eyes glowed. Brown opened to meet blue's intense gaze. Her eyes widened slightly before softening. She opened her arms to him.

"Come here," she breathed.

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><p>When they finally lay side by side, spent, the scent of her all over him, he sighed again. No, he'd never been this happy. Suddenly, he rolled on top of her, making her squeal. She laughed as he grinned down at her, silly and wide and beautiful. Her breath hitched and he softly kissed her collarbone. With languid, lazy movements he made his way down her body, lightly kissing, gently touching. She sighed, so very happy.<p>

Her voice floated down to him. "I still don't know about 'Penny'."

Jim gently brushed his lips across a slender, curved hip. He loved this woman. So much. He looked up at her from between kiss-warmed thighs, his heart in his eyes. Her eyelashes made lacey shadows across her cheeks in the simulated sunlight. She looked contented, a sated expression on her lovely face. "What about… Penda." Her eyes fluttered open to look at him.

She smiled.

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><p>AN: Whew. Fluffalicious.<p>

Penda is Kiswahili for "love" and the alternate first name considered for Lt. Uhura in Star Trek TOS.

And yes, I _know_ that a pregnant woman could not serve onboard but it's my story and she'll be pregnant if I want her to. So nyah.


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